


Choragus

by xenachakram12



Series: Dramatics: The Couch Sex 'Verse [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pseudo-Incest, Season/Series 03, Underage Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenachakram12/pseuds/xenachakram12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rachel Berry sets her mind on something that involves someone else, that someone else has two choices.  They can either indulge her, or they can move out of state and change their name.  Kurt’s mistake is that he chooses neither.  (AKA the one in which Rachel doesn't know when to just drop it and things get more complicated.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choragus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pletzel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pletzel/gifts).



> This is the second part of a series. I advise you start from the beginning. :-)

When Rachel Berry sets her mind on something that involves someone else, that someone else has two choices.  They can either indulge her, or they can move out of state and change their name.  Kurt’s mistake is that he chooses neither.

Kurt slams his locker and tries to escape, but despite her size Rachel can really move in her sensible ballerina flats.  It’s been exactly two weeks since the… incident on the couch in the den, and Rachel will not stop harping on it.  She says that since that night Finn has been distracted, maudlin, and shifty, and of course she assumes the problem is Kurt and none of her delightfully eccentric idiosyncrasies.  She reiterates the point.  “…and I think it’s because you the two of you have some sort of latent feelings for each other.”

It’s times like these that make Kurt miss the time when he and Rachel were rivals and he could verbally lash her without remorse.  Well, without _much_ anyway.  Whatever the case he cannot behave that way with her now; he hates putting that pouty look on her face.  “Rachel, I know your concerns.  You’ve already explained them all in detail and with pseudo-scientific psychological research.  You’ve texted them to me as I tried to sleep.  I get it.  But I’m only going to tell you this once more…”  He grips her shoulders in his hands and makes forceful eye contact.  “Finn and I don’t have any ‘latent’ feelings, okay?”  He looks around the hall to make sure there is no one near enough to overhear.  “What happened the other night was some weird fluke.  I already apologized to you for kissing your boyfriend!  What more do you want from me?”

“Kurt.”  She says it like she’s talking to a child who is talking about things he cannot possibly comprehend.  “I just think we all need to talk about it.”  Kurt huffs a sigh in his frustration and walks away, but it does not deter her.   She follows, her hands on her hips as she pleads her case.  “Say I believe you about you and Finn.  We should still make sure that we’ve all come to peace with what happened!”  She stomps around Kurt quickly and intercepts his path, looking up at him fiercely.  “You don’t know what he’s been like!  He’s acting really strangely—“

Kurt wishes he could just ignore her pleas, but the problem is that she’s right.  Finn _has_ been acting strangely, but she’s wrong to think Kurt hasn’t noticed.  Of course he’s noticed.  Finn is his stepbrother; they live together.  In such a confined space, a person can’t be that large and that unspeakably awkward without everyone knowing.

“—and I know that he would feel better if we could just all discuss it.  I know it’ll be a little uncomfortable, but this is what families do.  They resolve their issues, even if it’s an unpleasant process.”

It’s tempting to point out that decent families’ issues do not generally entail having put their tongues in each other’s mouths, but he resists.  Instead he tilts his head and regards Rachel, who stands with her feet planted and her arms crossed.  Kurt knows there is no arguing with her and yet he usually does it anyway.  He figures it’s good for her.  Now though, he knows he isn’t going to; he sighs and relents.  “Alright.”

Rachel nods like she knew all along that Kurt would agree.  “We can convene at my house tomorrow night.  My dads will be at the symphony, so we can use the basement and the stage will be right there in case any of us need to sing about our feelings.”  She links her arm in Kurt’s as she drags them down the hallway, prattling on about her crazy theories.  So what if Rachel has noticed the bags under Kurt’s eyes?  All that means is that Kurt needs to be more generous with the eye cream.

\---

Kurt brings Blaine with him to Rachel’s, even if it was never explicitly stated that he was invited.  He was there on that fateful night, so Kurt feels he should be present for the painful dissection of every exchanged glance.  Kurt somewhat expects for Rachel to have one of those giant pads of paper on an easel with bullet points on what they need to discuss.

There’s no easel, which is lucky for Rachel because if there had been Kurt would have turned right back up the stairs and gone home.  He and Blaine settle into the couch and dig into the popcorn and Perrier set out for them—only Rachel would feel compelled to provide snacks for uncomfortable, morning-after-type conversations—as they wait for Finn to join them downstairs.  Kurt is actually pretty grateful for the salty carbs in that moment; his stomach is unsettled and nervous, and it needs something to do.  When he notices a stack of pink index cards on the side table—each one apparently full of notes with what appears to be gold star stickers in the place of bullet points—Kurt begins to shake his head to protest, but it’s too late.  Finn avoids everyone’s eyes as he plods down the basement stairs like there is a firing squad at the bottom.  Kurt knows the feeling.

“Good!”  Rachel flashes her wide, white smile and claps once in her excitement.  “Now that we’re all here, we can get started.”

In most contexts Kurt begrudgingly appreciates Rachel’s flare for drama, but something about the way she calls for the group’s attention as if she’s leading a seminar makes Kurt suddenly realize with firm certainty that he _cannot_ do this.  That whatever she has to say is going to be excruciatingly uncomfortable and completely unnecessary, and he’d rather shave off his eyebrows and have to draw them on every day for the rest of his life than discuss any of the strange, unwelcome emotions that had passed between him and Finn on that night or any other night.  So they all kind of traipsed all over each other’s boundaries once; big deal.  They’ve all been through more embarrassing things than this.  If they can repress that week they all did disco, then they can repress a minor sexual indiscretion.

“We don’t have to do this, Rachel,” Kurt begins.  “You’re making a big deal over nothing.  It’s out of character for you, I know, but there’s a first time for everything.”

Rachel either doesn’t catch the dig or she ignores it.  “Now Kurt, you agreed to come here, which means you implicitly agreed to hear me out.”  Rachel turns her attention to Finn who stands as still as a prey animal in the center of the room before she waves him to take a seat.  He glances at the empty spot on the couch next to Kurt, but doesn’t rest his eyes there for long.  Instead he pulls a wingback chair from the corner and drags it closer to where Rachel stands.  Its legs screech against the tile floor.

“I feel it’s essential to the success of our tightly bonded friendship that we clear the air about what happened the other night,” Rachel continues.  “I know Finn is still unsettled by the whole thing, and Kurt, you aren’t much better.”

“Rachel,” Finn calls, his voice almost a whisper.  “Rach, it’s fine.  I’m okay.  Everything is cool.”

Rachel looks dubious and turns to face Kurt with a scrunched face.  “You heard him,” Kurt replies.  “Cool as a cucumber sandwich.”

When Rachel sighs dramatically slowly, Kurt wonders if Rachel really is exasperated or if she does it for effect.  “I know you two don’t want to admit it, but I think there is something between you,” Rachel continues.  “And it’s okay!  Blaine and I aren’t upset by it.  Isn’t that right, Blaine?”

Blaine looks suitably contrite, but he doesn’t disagree.  He takes one of Kurt’s hands between both of his own and inhales a steeling breath.  “I’m not going to claim that I know exactly what’s going on between you, but there is something.  I can see it on you.  I _felt_ it in that room that night; I think anyone could have.”  He gives Kurt a slight smile, like he always does when he’s trying to soften the blow of bad news.  What a Judas.

“Look,” Kurt says, in his tone that brooks no argument.  “You are all my dear friends, and I care about you deeply, which should be obvious considering I’m willing to sit around and indulge this craziness, but you’re making a Vesuvius out of a kid’s science project.  Finn and I kissed, okay?  It happened, the world still turns, and somehow he and I still manage to look each other in the eye every day.  I’m going to put a tick firmly in the ‘win’ column and move on.  I suggest you all do the same.”

“But look at him,” Rachel intones, pointing at Finn.  “Does he look okay to you?”

Finn’s so tall that the top of his head is even higher than the back of the chair when he sits, but he can still rest his cheek against the wing of the backrest.  His eyes are dull and stare off into the horizon, and when he realizes Rachel is talking about him, he perks up and pays attention but he still looks so… blank.  It’s not the first time in recent days that Kurt has noticed Finn looking detached and checked-out, and not just in the planning-his-fantasy-football-season-in-his-head kind of way.  Each time Kurt had rationalized it away, casually blaming any sign of distress on something superficial and convenient, and for the first time Kurt allows himself feel a pang of guilt.

“Blaine and I expected that neither of you would be willing to admit to anything, so we’ve come prepared with a contingency plan,” Rachel says as she comes to sit on the empty cushion of the couch on Kurt’s left before nodding sharply once at Blaine.  As Blaine slides off the couch and onto his knees Kurt shoots Finn a panicked look, and Finn’s expression goes from unmoved to bewildered in an instant.  Before Kurt can argue or plead or maybe even run, Blaine runs his palms up Kurt’s thighs in long swoops, his head tilted up exposing the long, muscular curve of his neck.  His eyes dance as he searches Kurt’s eyes and sneaks his hands into Kurt’s lap to undo his fly.

“Kurt and Blaine are going to have sex, Finn,” Rachel announces, matter of fact.  “You can stay or you can leave, whichever you choose.”

Kurt’s pulse kicks up as his blood begins to pound in his veins.  It’s familiar, this feeling.  He can’t name it and he’s not sure he wants to, but it’s urgent and precarious, like he’s walking a tightrope and all he has to do is step out of line to feel the sweet release of the plunge.  He turns his eyes to Finn, the only person in the room who might possibly be his partner in sanity, to see Finn’s disgust or trepidation or _something_ in him to which he can desperately cling.  Finn’s eyebrows are so high on his forehead that they look like that might shoot off his face at any moment, and his chest heaves noticeably; he looks terrified, but he doesn’t move.  Finn watches Kurt with eyes full of regret, his mouth agape but wordless, but he doesn’t leave.

Kurt feels Blaine’s hand on his swelling erection—how is he getting so hard already?—as Blaine works to pull it through the functional opening of Kurt’s briefs.  Kurt tries to muster the strength to want to stop this, knowing that it’s up to him alone now, but there isn’t enough in him.  Instead of protesting or pulling up his damn pants and getting the hell out of there, Kurt lets the tension in his shoulders go slack, exhales, and allows.  His cheeks flush hot, and his eyes are still on Finn in the exact moment when Blaine frees his cock and takes it smoothly and unceremoniously into the endless, watery chasm of his mouth.

The jolt of pleasure shocks his system, and Kurt is fully hard in an instant, his leg twitching involuntarily at the force of it.  He turns his attention on Blaine, focuses on him; doesn’t look anywhere but at him.  Blaine knows what Kurt likes, knows he likes to be sucked slowly and deliberately, and the sensation is almost enough to distract him from way his skin throbs with the feeling of being watched.

“You are beautiful together,” Rachel comments, her voice drifting over Kurt’s shoulder.  “Aren’t they beautiful, Finn?”  Kurt doesn’t look at Finn—can’t look, won’t look—but his ears are attuned to him and he hears Finn’s barely audible whimper.

Kurt leans back and balls his fists, making an effort to maintain his outward composure and letting Blaine drive.  Kurt knows that during sex he has a tendency to be pushy and vocal when his mouth isn’t otherwise occupied, and while Blaine pants and writhes and complies with Kurt’s every command, Kurt knows how much Blaine loves _this_ too.  He loves when Kurt hands him the reins like this, that Kurt trusts him to set the pace and to decide his pleasure.  Kurt can tell by the way his eyes are shut, their corners watery, and by the way he holds and releases his breath in huge gulps that Blaine’s cock is filling at the way Kurt stretches his mouth and bumps the back of his throat.  Blaine is rapt, and Kurt feels such fierce affection for him in that moment that he squeezes his eyes tightly shut and cradles Blaine’s sweet face in his hands.     
  
“Look at him, Kurt.”  Rachel leans in close, her cheek practically touching Kurt’s, the devil on his shoulder.  She is slowly undoing him, unlatching his every defense one at a time, and she wants everyone to know.  “Look at Finn.  Open your eyes and look at him.”  
  
Kurt does; he obeys without thinking.  His higher brain function is fighting a losing battle with his baser desires and it’s making him more likely to act without his usual pre-consideration.   It makes Kurt’s belly tighten in arousal and fear.  
  
“He wants you.” Rachel’s pretty voice winds into his ear and down his spine.  “Look at his eyes… look at his _hands_.  He’s practically sitting on them to keep from touching you.”  
  
Finn’s eyes widen before he looks down to where his hands are tucked behind his knees.  He pulls them out in a swift, inelegant movement but can’t seem to decide what to do with them after that.  He looks around him—maybe he’s looking for some knitting needles or other innocent, grandmotherly way to occupy them—but when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he rests them very deliberately on the tops of his thighs and sits as straight as a board.  Finn has never looked so unnatural in his entire life.  
  
Too late to see Finn’s reaction, Blaine slows the motion of his tongue, pulls almost entirely off of Kurt, and turns to look at Finn.  Finn’s cheeks are splotchy and red and he is involuntarily jiggling his right leg.  Kurt knows that Finn must be able to see everything between Kurt’s gaping fly and Blaine’s gaping mouth, and Finn must know that he knows.  One of them should take issue with it, Kurt thinks, but neither of them say a word.  
  
Blaine swallows Kurt down again, groaning long and low in his throat, and Kurt can feel the hum throughout his entire body.  Kurt knows that groan; he _loves_ that groan.  Blaine is looking at Finn looking at Kurt and he’s _getting off on it_.  Blaine shifts his body to right side of Kurt’s legs so that he can continue to blow him, but this time he keeps his eyes open.  He wants to see.  He wants to see _Finn_ see.  
  
Finn’s posture slowly loses its rigidity as he watches Blaine’s mouth slide wetly around Kurt’s cock.  Kurt sees Finn’s eyes move in time with Blaine’s motions, his wide pupils rising and falling along with the purposeful rhythm of Blaine’s bobbing head as he shows off, swirling his tongue dramatically and applying hot, wet, pressure around the circumference of Kurt’s dick.  
  
Kurt feels Rachel’s hand land on his shoulder.  She steadies herself on her knees as she breathes, and somehow she manages to sound unaffected when she commands, “Touch yourself, Finn.”  
  
Finn’s eyes squeeze shut and Kurt can hear the high-pitched whine in the back of Finn’s throat.  His hands are grasping his pant legs now; Kurt can see the fabric bunched up between his fingers.  
  
“Come on,” Rachel goads, but Finn just shakes his head violently, his eyes still closed.  He looks like he might shove his fingers in his ears if he didn’t have them tangled so resolutely in his pant legs.  It’s convincing; Kurt could almost believe that Finn doesn’t really want this, except for the fact that he still doesn’t fucking _leave_.  
  
“Kurt...” Rachel implores, her lips hovering near his ear again, her presence well within Kurt’s personal space.  She needn’t say anything more; Kurt knows what she’s asking.  Somehow Kurt always knows what Rachel is asking when she doesn’t know how to ask it.  
  
“Finn,” Kurt blurts.  The word comes out forcefully, authoritatively; its strength a surprise even to Kurt.  It feels like the air stills and time stops.  Even Blaine falters for a moment at the edge in Kurt’s voice.  Kurt breathes in and out once.  He softens his tone.  “Finn, hey...”  
  
Finn opens his eyes and looks at Kurt, straight in the eyes, nowhere else.  He fidgets and gives Kurt this look that is too familiar, like his boat has sprung a leak and Kurt has a bucket.  
  
Kurt nods.  “It’s okay,” he says voice small and airy.  “It’s okay.”  
  
Finn exhales suddenly and loudly.  His hands relax and the color returns to his knuckles.  He keeps eye contact with Kurt and Kurt doesn’t look away.  
  
Finn sticks his hand down his pants without opening his fly.  Kurt tries to laugh—he gives Finn such a hard time about wearing pants that don’t fit him properly—but it comes out a breathy moan.  “No.  No, Finn...”  Kurt swallows the excess saliva in his mouth.  “You can—just… you can.”  
  
Finn’s eyes pierce into Kurt for a long moment.  The air is charged as Finn extricates his hand from his pants.  He unbuttons his fly and pulls down his zipper, the clicking sound of the teeth seeming inordinately loud.  Finn gets to his feet just enough to get his thumbs into the waistbands of his pants and boxers and slide them down to the tops of his thighs.  He sits back down quickly, the bare cheeks of his ass on the Berrys’ expensively upholstered furniture.  His shirt is in the way so Kurt can’t see much, but he knows.  He _knows_ what Finn is doing when his right hand disappears from sight and he knows that Finn is doing it because of him.

“Let him see.”  Rachel says it directly into Kurt’s ear, but Finn somehow knows that it’s meant for him.  With his free hand Finn pulls the bottom of his shirt up and tucks it behind where his hand is working.  Kurt sees the head of Finn’s penis sticking out from the circle of his hand and it’s… wow.  Respectable.  He can’t really tell the thickness from where he sits, but it’s long even compared to Finn’s fist and Kurt can’t help but think about Blaine.  Blaine who would love the challenge of it, stretching his mouth around Finn, taking him slow to try to get the head down his relaxed throat, and oh god, Kurt needs to stop thinking about that or he’s gonna blow.

Kurt tears his eyes away from Finn’s crotch and looks back up at his face.  When their eyes meet again, Kurt can see that Finn’s eyelids are heavy and he’s blinking slowly.  Finn’s mouth drops open and he gasps, his hand speeding up and his wrist swiveling.

Kurt tilts his chin down and swallows hard.  He puts his hand on the back of Blaine’s head, petting his hair and the soft skin on the back of his neck.  It encourages Blaine, who puts one hand on the small of Kurt’s back and grasps his other hand on Kurt’s knee.  Blaine starts working in earnest, applying pressure and suction in unpredictable, alternating patterns with the swipes of his broad, smooth tongue.  Kurt’s arousal goes from comfortable and sustainable to intense in mere moments. 

“He’s done this before—” Rachel whispers.  Kurt had almost forgotten she was even there.  “—touched himself and thought of you.  Haven’t you?”

Finn’s focus shifts from Kurt to Rachel.  Kurt can see the strain in his eyes, but can’t be sure of the exact cause.  He nods minutely.

“Tell him, Finn.”  Rachel’s fingers wind into Kurt’s hair, stroking but pulling a little too.  “He needs to hear you say it.”

Finn keeps his eyes trained on Rachel.  His voice is thick.  “Yea.  Yes.  I have.”

Kurt’s hips buck up involuntarily and it causes Blaine to choke a little in surprise.  Kurt squeezes and massages the muscles in Blaine’s neck and jaw in apology, but also fondness; Kurt knows how the muscles there can get sore and overworked, and Blaine is working tirelessly.

Finn is already close; Kurt can tell.  He’s never seen Finn like this, not really—that time on the couch Kurt had resolutely kept his mind away from Finn until he couldn’t anymore, and even then he’d kept his eyes off—but Kurt can recognize the signs.  Finn’s hand is stripping his dick now and his hips are shifting in a pattern that is faltering in its rhythm.  Kurt can’t help but wish that Finn were naked, that he could see his triceps flexing and his abs fluttering.  He wants to see Finn spread out, long and glorious and unhidden.  Kurt knows that when all this is over he’ll regret allowing himself to have that thought, but he’s not going to punish himself for it; not yet.

“Tell him about it, Finn.”  It’s not Rachel but Blaine who instructs Finn this time.  Blaine’s voice is wrecked after he pulls off of Kurt’s dick, and it somehow makes everything seem real and undeniable.  “Tell him what you think about.”

“Oh god.”  Finn squeezes the base of his cock and holds it still.  “No, I can’t.”  He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Simultaneously, Rachel and Blaine turn to look at Kurt.  Kurt feels the two sets of eyes on him, but all he can see is Finn across the room with a pained face and, out of his peripheral vision, his own dick flushed and wet sticking out of his pants.  It’s so surreal that he’s almost detached from it.  He feels as if he could do and say anything he wants because this moment is so far removed from reality that it doesn’t count.  “Please,” Kurt says.  His voice is weak.

Finn’s eyes shoot open and find Kurt’s immediately, like he was in synch with Kurt even when he couldn’t see him.  “Kurt?”

Finn’s voice is so small and self-conscious that Kurt feels his chest constrict.  His face is open in a way it hasn’t been in weeks, not since the night they discovered how the other tastes.  Finn trusts him, trusts Kurt to tell him if it’s too much, if they are crossing a line that they can never take back.  He’s brave and he’s generous, and he’s begging Kurt to tell him that what he is feeling is okay.

Kurt nods.  “You can tell me.  If you want.  Only if you want.”

“ _Kurt_ …”  Finn’s releases the base of his dick and starts working himself again in a repetitive, sweeping, swirling pattern.  When Finn speaks again, his voice is strong and without any sign of hesitation.  “I think about… about your mouth.  How you bit my lip and just… oh god, _owned_ me, ya know?  And the way you smell…”

Kurt’s dick twitches.  He’s thought about it too, but only late at night, during those witching hours that seem like a dream upon waking the next day.  In those moments before sleep he could relive and relish the way Finn sighed into their kiss, like he was pouring his entire being in Kurt’s body by way of his mouth.

“I wanna touch you so bad sometimes.  Like, when we pass each other in the hall at home, and I try so hard to keep my arms to myself because I’m scared that if I touch you…”  Finn trails off and shakes his head.  “I stay away, but I really just want to push you up against the wall.”

Kurt and Blaine moan at the same time.  Kurt feels the surface of his skin heat up, feeling it become thin and brittle the way paper does before it catches flame.  Blaine is going to town on his cock and Finn is telling him things that are impossible to fathom.  Kurt feels the tension building low in his stomach as his balls tighten.  There isn’t much time left.  “You can touch me, Finn,” Kurt confesses almost frantically.  “You can touch me right now.”

That’s all it takes.  Finn bites his lip and holds it as he comes, his hand working himself through it for a long time.  Kurt watches Finn spasm and twitch; he’d be disappointed that Finn already came if he were going to last longer than another minute or so.

Finn doesn’t revel in his afterglow.  He wipes his come off on his shirt—surprisingly Kurt is too turned-on to be put off by poor laundry care—and pulls his pants back up, fastening them as he stands.  He walks toward Kurt but stops a few feet away.  There’s a question in his eyes, and Kurt knows what it must be.  _Did you mean it?  Can I still touch you?_

Kurt is so close to coming, and the urgency comes through in his voice.  “Come here.  Come here, Finn.  Hurry.”

Finn lacks coordination as he scrambles and kneels at Kurt’s feet.  His eyes are still asking for permission, or maybe instruction.  “Your hands,” Kurt’s voice drops low as he says it.  “Please.”

Kurt doesn’t say how or where, but he doesn’t really care.  He just knows he needs it, needs Finn to reassure him now, to know he’s not the only one who is confused and desperate.  Kurt is willing to take the plunge as long as he knows he won’t be alone when he lands.

Kurt’s eyes close of their own accord because it is just too much.  Rachel’s warm body is within the halo of Kurt’s intimate space, Blaine must be hollowing his cheeks to produce such an insane amount of suction, and Finn is killing him with the expectation of his touch.  Kurt can feel his lungs expand and contract rapidly, his calves tight with his pent up energy.  They surround him—his best friend, his boyfriend, his brother—supporting him, accepting him like this: aroused and healthy and young.  It’s something he never expected to have.

Kurt waits for Finn to grope him, to get his strong hands on his thighs or his back or maybe even his ass if he can manage to get his hands on it, because he knows that Finn isn’t exactly subtle.  So when he feels the tentative pads of Finn’s fingers on his cheekbone, Kurt startles, but Finn shushes him.  Finn strokes the smooth skin, feeling the shape of the bone underneath and stroking his thumb over the tendons in his throat.

It’s so unexpected: the juxtaposition of a feather-light touch in the hot, humid sounds of sex in the room.  It’s so much, too much, and a noise tears from Kurt’s throat as he comes before he can even warn Blaine, his dick pulsing hot and long and over and over into his throat, and there’s so much of it that Blaine can’t keep up, can’t swallow it all.  Kurt lightly squeezes Blaine’s neck in a nonverbal cue to pull off, and Blaine withdraws, letting Kurt’s dripping dick fall from his mouth: his messy, wet, swollen, beautiful mouth.

Kurt’s head goes a little foggy so he allows himself to lay back into the soft cushions of the couch behind him.  The motion causes the physical contact between Finn and Kurt to break, and Kurt takes a moment to catch up with his breath.  When his eyes drift open again, he looks to Finn just in time to see him slowly pull his hand away from where it hovers in the air and shove it into his pocket.

Kurt’s ears ring and his whole body is so overstimulated that he momentarily forgets that Blaine is draped perpendicularly across his lap, his head pillowed on Kurt’s thigh as he hums low in his throat like a purr.  His chest is still heaving like he’s won a marathon though—and in a way, he did—so Kurt tries to regain use of his limbs enough to touch him when realizes he hasn’t taken care of Blaine at all.

“Baby…”  Kurt grabs at Blaine’s hip, beckoning him closer.  Blaine is shy about it, but Kurt knows that Blaine loves when Kurt calls him that, sweet and secret in their intimate moments.  For a second Kurt worries that he’s stepped over a line, saying something that is usually reserved just for them in front of Finn and Rachel, but then it occurs to him that they have shared a lot with Finn and Rachel in the last few minutes.

“Blaine, baby, come on.  Come up here.”  Blaine makes grumbly, unhappy sounds like he does when Kurt tries to wake him up.  “Let me take care of you.”  Kurt reaches down to Blaine’s fly; it’s damp and he’s not hard at all.

“I’m good.”  Blaine smiles languorously up at Kurt.  “ _Boy_ , am I good.”

Kurt can feel his smile spread across his face.  He looks at Blaine’s sated expression and feels a sudden need to have him closer.  He opens his arms in invitation and Blaine rises to embrace him despite looking like he might fall asleep at any moment.  They hold each other for a minute and when they pull apart far enough to kiss, Kurt realizes that somehow Blaine had gotten all the way off the floor and onto the couch next to him.  Kurt regards him for a minute, looks him in the eye for any sign of discomfort or worry.  He only looks pleased.  Kurt kisses him again.

“No, thank you.  I’m okay,” Rachel declines even though no one was offering her anything.  “This wasn’t about the sex for me.  I just wanted you two,” she looks between Finn and Kurt, “to acknowledge your feelings, which I totally accomplished by the way.”  Kurt rolls his eyes, but Rachel doesn’t comment on it.  “I plan on marking this down in my journal as my good deed for the day, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count if I… well, you know.”

“Get off on it?”  Blaine always gets like this after sex: relaxed and improper and liable to say anything.  Kurt feels such intense love for him in that moment.

Rachel blushes and darts her eyes, before settling into the couch and leaning her head on Kurt’s shoulder.  Kurt pats her cheek in a “good girl” type gesture, which only makes her nuzzle into him more.

Kurt feels like his limbs are made of stone, but in such a good, bone-deep way.  He blinks slowly, enjoying Rachel’s soft hair against his arm and Blaine’s face on his thigh.  He looks at Finn, who doesn’t look as settled as a boy should when he’s just come.

Finn holds his hands in his lap, watching the three friends cuddle on the coach as he makes non-productive fidgety movements.  There are at least two feet between where he slid to his knees and Kurt’s feet.  Finn looks like he wants to disappear.

“Finn,” Kurt says smiling, and he hopes the warmth of it comes through in his voice.  He takes his left hand out of Blaine’s hair and reaches out to Finn.  Finn hesitates in taking it, but Kurt doesn’t have to wait long before his hand is wrapped up in Finn’s larger one.  Finn blinks hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, but he recovers quickly, meeting Kurt’s eyes and smiling his damn lopsided smile.  Kurt’s heart jumps.

Kurt wants to pull Finn over to the couch.  He wants to pull him down and cover him with his body.  He still wants Rachel and Blaine there too; he just has a feeling in his chest that he thinks only Finn can soothe.  Kurt doesn’t press his luck though.  He doesn’t press; he doesn’t pull.  He simply holds onto the broad hand against his palm, as Finn scoots close enough to the couch to lean against it and for Rachel to pet his face.

“Well,” Kurt chimes, his voice bright as it breaks through the comfortable silence of the room.  “Thank you for a lovely evening, Rachel.  Your intervention went swimmingly.  This little exercise didn’t muddy the waters _at all_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blaine says at Kurt’s obvious sarcasm.  “I had a great time.”


End file.
